


New Beginnings

by Rei382



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6010591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rei382/pseuds/Rei382
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things aren't very pleasant to find. But sometimes, good things can come from the bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's Valentine's. But this is a New Years fanfiction.  
> Because a. I suck and I didn't manage to finish the valentine fafiction I was going to and b. I suck and I forgot to post this one on time...  
> But hell, its Ed and Roy and being drunk as hell so, why the hell not?  
> Hope you guys will enjoy this one!!  
> And hope you had a better day than I did. hate that sundays are my only free days to go and do errands, like, I dunno, go to the dentist... -_-"

All around him there was noise. Cheers, laugh and also just regular yelling surrounded him, closing on him like a cage. Eduard felt detached. Everyone seemed to be happy. Drunk and happy, and they had every right to; he had that right too, but he was brutally robbed of it.  


Tonight was supposed to be a good night. In fact, he was looking forward to it; sure, Christmas was nice. There was something about the coziness of family he didn't experience in a long while. Even Alphonse enjoyed. But tonight was supposed to be about new beginnings. It was supposed to be about celebrating, it was supposed to be…well, about them. In the first time of his life Ed had someone to start the New Year with, someone who could make him believe that the following year could be different.  


Well, he thought bitterly as he downed what remained from the drink in his glass. This time it really was different. He'd never felt this bad. Of course, there was the time after he and Al attempted to revive their mother, but that was on a whole different scale. Besides, he was an adult now, and Alphonse had his body back, and even Ed had his arm back, and he finally wasn't a part of the military.  


Tonight definitely should've been a good night. He even made sure his brother won't be home; but now that fact would just be more depressing when he gets back home.  


Annoyed, he glanced around. He quickly realized it was a bad idea. All around him he could see couples. Couples touching each other, laughing together, kissing; and it reminded of the image he faced earlier, when he went to his office. He wanted to surprise him, picking him up at work, feeling sorry for him that he had to work on New Year's Eve. Working, yeah right. He had no idea his boyfriend worked as a prostitute, as that was the only "job" he could think of that would involve another man's mouth over his dick.  


The memory, still too vivid in his mind, made Ed momentarily close his eyes in pain. A second later he was already gesturing the rather busy bartender, a nice looking girl that seemed to be about his age – early twenties or so – to come closer. He held up his empty glass, his intention clear.  


"Another one," he requested, although the girl probably didn't need these instructions. She nodded once and took the glass from him.  


"Make that two of whatever he'd ordered," said a sudden voice from the seat next to him, making the bartender pause before she could even turn away. She nodded again and disappeared before Ed even had a chance to register what was happening.  


Annoyed, he turned, not sure who he was expecting to see sitting there. Not his now ex-boyfriend, that's for sure; he was too much of a coward. Maybe a strange man seeing him sitting alone at the bar and trying to make a move at him. But no. That was too unlikely, both because, well, he was not sitting in a gay bar and there was no way anyone could know, but mostly because there was something oddly familiar about that voice. It was too noisy and he was already too drunk to recognize it. However, whoever it was, Ed was sure about one thing – he was not in the mood for company.  


"Who –" he started, but paused the moment his eyes fell on his companion. He found himself unable to continue his question, let alone that it was no longer necessary.  


"Fancy seeing you here," said Mustang. A rather large smile was spread over his face, and he was obviously oblivious to Edward's foul mood. "Nice place, isn't it?"  


"Sure," Ed found himself replying thoughtlessly. The possibility that out of all people the person who invited himself to sit next to him would be his former boss didn't even cross his mind, and it caught him off-guard. That, his general lousy mood and the alcohol that already ran in his veins made it very hard to think. "Very nice." He glanced at the bartender, watching her filling two shot glasses with what looked like Whiskey. Somehow, he had a feeling that his thinking abilities were only going to descend from hereafter. When he looked at Mustang again, he saw his eyebrows were brought together.  


"Well you sound very cheerful," the older man commented, the cynical tone he was using very clear despite all the noise around them. "What is there to be sulking about? Cheer up! It's New Year's, you're not a soldier anymore, you and Al have your bodies back… Is it me?" but then, before Ed's mind even decoded what the older man way saying, he burst out in laughing, and Ed could feel his strong arm on his shoulder. Sitting closer now, and despite being a little drunk himself, he was able to smell the booze surrounding Mustang. Well, that explained.  


"No," he replied shortly, shaking the arm off him. It looked like the older man would've attempted that again, but just at that moment the bartender came back with their glasses. Ed reached for his wallet to pay, but before he managed to pull it out of his pocket he could already see the older man handing a few bills to the girl, who took them with a smile and disappeared to treat the other customers.  


"Yeah, I didn't spend six years with you without knowing when you're lying to me," he took the glasses, pulling one closer to him while pushing the other towards Edwards. "There. That should help," he said, but just as Ed reached to take it from him he realized he still didn't let it go. "Are you even old enough to be drinking this? I don't want to be the one to make you break the law –"  


"Asshole, I've had eighteen two months ago," Ed replied. He was less surprised now, and his previous annoyance had returned. "What are you even doing here? Don't you have anywhere better to go to?"  


"Aww, haven't seen me in almost a year and that's how you treat me? And here I was, thinking I had more meaning than that in your life –"  


"Shut up, will you?" Ed snapped, cutting through Mustang's words. Somewhere, his brain did register the fact that the other man was joking with him; perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up, he didn't know. But the fact that he did understand that didn't change the fact that he was becoming more annoyed by the minute. He should have just bought a bottle and brought it along to drink alone at home, that way no one would've bothered him. It would have been cheaper, too. He snatched the glass away from Mustang's hold and drunk it all in a single gulp. The liquid burnt its way down his throat, but he didn't care. "Go away. I don't want company." He added, ignoring the way his voice sounded – forced and hoarse. He was surprised that, even after expressing his wish to be alone in the clearest way he could, his former commanding officer was still sitting there.  


"That is not how you drink Whiskey, you know," he heard him saying, and saw him gesturing the bartender again. A closer look told him that the man barely touched his drink, although the traces on the glass showed that he did sip it.  


"Whatever. I don't care. Go away."  


"Aww, come on. I don't know what'd gotten into you but I'm not going to let you start the New Year in that mood. Hey, bartender! I need two double Glenfidditch please!"  


"I'm leaving," Ed announced, and moved to get off his chair. He didn't know why he even bothered to announce this – yes, in the past Mustang have done a lot for him, but he wasn't feeling very thankful right now. He bid him his gratitude when he quitted his job as a State Alchemist to become a Pharmacist. On any other time he'd probably be glad to meet him, but not today.  


A hand holding his arm stopped him, and he turned to look at Mustang. He was suddenly very close, and Ed realized how much he stood out in the crowd. While most of the bar occupants were young, about Edward's age, Roy was obviously older. But that did not mean he stood out in a bad way. Ed suddenly realized there was a certain air to him that differed him from the rest. A well rooted confidence, maybe, and suddenly, Ed remembered why he was so eager to get out of the military as soon as he could, and never bothered staying in touch. Seeing Roy every single day was becoming some kind of a torture; a torture he managed to forget when his relationship with Denis started, but now, in the dim lit room, with the rather cheap alcohol running in his veins, the fact that he hadn't seen him in about ten months and the memory of his now ex-boyfriend cheating on him, it had reawaken. He stood in his place, glaring at the older man. Even if right now he felt like trying to do something about it, he was pretty sure it would be a bad idea. Drunk and hurt, if anything happened now it'd end up being nothing but a rebound… and he wasn't sure he could reduce what he once felt for his commanding officer to a New Years-rebound-drunken one night stand.  


"Stay," Mustang requested. His voice wasn't commanding like it used to be, once; the request was gentle, almost an offer. "I really do think it's wrong that you'd start the year that way. I don't know what happened, and I will listen to you if you want to, or won't ask you a thing if that's what you wish for, but let me at least try to cheer you up."  


Ed considered that request. Already as he stood up, he realized it wasn't going to be easy to get out of that place – during the short time Roy was sitting there as well the place had become unbelievingly busy, making it look almost impossible to even get out of there. He gave in, and sat on his chair – a second before someone else was already snatching it from him.  


"Thank you," he could hear Roy saying, and the moment he was settled in the chair he was given a glass. He looked at it, and then at the older man. "So that's some real Whiskey. Drink – no, no, drink it slowly. Look at what I'm doing. Taste it, I'm sure you'll enjoy it more than the way you usually drink it. At least from what I've seen tonight. There, yes… No! Let it stay in your mouth a bit. Better, isn't it?"  


Ed had no idea how he resisted the urge to just drink the whole thing at once. He didn't care about 'quality'; he wanted to get drunk and forget what he'd seen, and if possible, forget who he was and end up waking up back in his room with a hangover so bad it'd make him forget what part of him truly ached. But somehow, maybe it was the way Roy's dark eyes lingered on him, as if daring him to do anything else, he did as he was told: holding the glass in his hand, moving it slightly and watching the liquid swirling inside it before he brought it to his lips and took a sip. He could feel the taste in his mouth, bitter yet with a certain charm to it.  


"Doesn't get me drunk as fast," he replied, still trying to figure whether he liked the new taste or not. It was much stronger than what he was used to, having never bothered to spend on a good quality drink, and as the time passed he could feel the after taste in his mouth, and he found that he was liking it more and more. "But yeah, better," he added, noticing Roy's face.  


The older man smiled. "Good. You have to wait a bit between every sip, to let them each have its own taste. So tell me, where have you been all this time? Didn't you miss the office at all?"  


Ed frowned. How could he answer that, what with the truth being that he sort of wished he could forget that episode of his life? He took another sip from his glass, too busy with that thought to remember to follow Roy's previous instructions. It was lucky he was gazing at his now empty glass, as he missed the disapproving look on the other man's face. "I was busy," he said eventually. "Couldn't find time to visit."  


"Busy? Winry'd been keeping you preoccupied, I see… Hope you don't have any plans to marry her without inviting me. I'd be very insulted."  


"Winry?" Ed asked. It took him a second to realize what Roy must have thought. "Not her. I've been working. We're not dating."  


"You're not?" Suddenly, he could see Roy shoving another shot glass in front of him. He didn't even notice him ordering anything. He gratefully took it, not bothering to check the contents before sipping it all. It burnt more than the other drinks, forcing him to close his eyes in dismay. It tasted like vodka, but he wasn't sure. He didn't care, either. The turn the conversation was taking was making him think about Denis again. He was somewhat pleased to realize he hadn't thought about him in several minutes now. He wondered if it was Roy's presence, or the booze. He assumed it was both.  


"No, I'm not. Never did. She's with Al." He had no idea why he felt he needed to volunteer that information. His head started to feel a little dizzy. Good.  


"Really? Interesting… We've all figured you'd end up with her. So… what's with you in that area? If you don't mind me asking. Thought that since we're not in work relations anymore – "  


"We broke up."  


There was a moment of silence between them. Well, relatively so, anyway. The noise around them was almost intolerable; the music was way too loud, and everyone were still talking loudly, laughing loudly, cheering loudly; but that didn't make the moment between Edward and Roy any less awkward. Eventually, Roy spoke.  


"I'm sorry to hear that. Has it been long? Have you two been together for long? Another round here, please." Edward lifted his eyes from his empty glass just in time to see the now tired looking bartender nodding and leaving them. He didn't dare to look at the other man.  


"Been together six months. Broke up today. Caught him with some other guy." By the time Ed was done talking, two more glasses were placed before them. This time he didn't wait for Roy to offer him one, but simply reached over and held it. He stared at it, but didn't drink it just yet. Next to him, Mustang didn't even touch his. For a moment, Ed regretted revealing the gender of his former partner; will Roy take this weirdly? Will he just get up and leave, or be disgusted with him, hate him? Winry and Alphonse accepted who he was easily, but there were others – just people who saw them together in the street or people who knew them, who reacted differently. Will Roy be a part of that group? Well, there was no way to change that now.  


"That's harsh," the older man said eventually. Ed could hear pity in his voice, and in a way, he appreciated it. Appreciated that he wasn't disgusted, that he wasn't bringing him even lower. He still didn't it. "I know it's hard to believe it right now, but it's not the end of the world. Even if you loved him, I'm sure there's something – someone – better waiting for you."  


"Yeah, whatever," Ed replied. He didn't need that kind of bullshit said to him; wasn't it what everyone had been saying at times like this? He brought the glass to his lips, but before he managed to down it, Roy's hand stopped him. He looked up.  


"Let's make a toast," he said, and Ed's eyebrow arched up. What was there to celebrate now? Maybe Roy really was as thick as he thought he'd been all these years. "No, listen up – let's make a toast, to new beginnings, and for the fact that Karma's a bitch and it'd surely get back at him. Cheers?"  


Ed thought for a second. "You're too cliché," he said, but raised his glass, clinging it with Roy's. "Cheers," he said, and then, at the same time as Roy, he drank what he believed to be his fifth drink that evening. After that followed the sixth, and the seventh, and before he knew he and Roy had been talking, sharing bad experiences with partners. Of course, Roy had much more to say – Denis had been Edawrd's first, after all; but he had a lot of dirt about him.  


He had no idea how long they've been talking, but at some point he noticed that suddenly all the music was gone. He stopped speaking, glancing around. The bartenders were standing with shot glasses in their hands, as the girl who was giving them their drinks was talking.  


"…seconds before! Are you ready?" she asked, and the people at the bar were roaring an excited agreement. There was a pause, and then she continued. "Ten!"  
The crowd repeated after her. Ed turned his head back to Roy, who gave him a little smile. "It's the countdown."  


"Yeah, I – "  


"Nine!"  


"-noticed."  


"Ed, I was – "  


"Eight!"  


"-thinking… maybe, since we're both already here… and, I don't know if you know, but I do appreciate you a lot –"  


"What are you talking about?" Ed cut into the other man's words. At the background, the bartender was still yelling numbers. His head felt dizzy; maybe that last glass of whatever it was had been one too much.  


"Couldn't do anything about it before, because… well, you were my subordinate, and I thought you were into Winry, so – "  
"Three!" the crown now started shouting louder along with her, so that despite the fact that the bartender was less than a meter away, Edward could no longer hear her voice.  


"What are you talking about?" he repeated, still confused.  


"Two!"  


"Ed, I – "  


"One!"  


"-am going to kiss you."  


"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"  


Ed didn't even have time to register what Roy had just said. He didn't even have time to register the fact that he was leaning closer to him before he could already feel lips touching his. He couldn't help but just sit there as the world seemed to explode; around him the noise was unbearable, but he couldn't notice anything in it, too busy with his inner turbulence. He didn't breathe, didn't move, didn't make a single sound; he thought that maybe his heart had stopped, too. He was too lost in the haze of the alcohol he'd drunk to fully understand what was happening. The only thing he knew was that right now, exactly at midnight between the years 1921 and 1922, at an overly crowded bar and probably at the worse timing in the world, Roy Mustang was kissing him. Roy Mustang, the man he'd spent about six years of his life loafing, out of which four years spent hopelessly longing to do just that – to kiss him.  


It felt surreal.  


He felt Roy almost breaking away when finally his slow brain managed to realize that since he was being kissed, he should kiss back. He closed his eyes and parted his lips, inviting the other man to stay, to let him dwell some more in that Heaven he could taste for a short moment. He didn't know why, but he was surprised when Roy obliged, moving closer and letting him taste him.  


By the time they broke the kiss, the music around them was already back, even louder than before, but suddenly he didn't mind it. He didn't mind all the people, and he didn't mind being here anymore. He opened his eyes, and saw Roy's dark eyes looking at him, a small fire burning inside them. It might have just been his imagination, but maybe it was because someone had just lighted a sparkler just behind him; but he didn't care either way.  


They didn't speak for a moment, but then Ed couldn't take it anymore. He just had to ask. "Roy, why – " but before he managed to finish his question, he felt a hand – warm, and a little bit sticky, probably because of all of their drinks – pressed against his lips. He could taste the stinginess of the little alcohol that was spilled on it during one – or more – of their many drinks together this evening.  


"You can ask me later. Happy New Year, Ed."  


Ed just stared at the older man for a short moment. He was smiling; a genuine, bright smile, and he had a feeling it didn't have a lot to do with the fact that the calendar year had just changed, or all the alcohol they've been drinking, and he couldn't help but mirror that smile. The thought of Denis, and what he'd seen earlier that evening, was nearly forgotten. For a second, he thought that he'd got it all wrong. It wasn't Roy who was a rebound for losing Denis; Denis was a rebound for not getting Roy in the first place. He shoved that aside. He didn't care anymore. "Cliché," he muttered against Roy's skin. "Happy New Year, bastard."


End file.
